Under darkened skies, p.1
Under Darkened Skies, page 1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2023 by H.E. Bauman
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
First paperback edition April 2023
Cover design by MiblArt
Map by Cartographybird Maps
ISBN 978-1-7354553-6-5 (paperback)
ISBN 978-1-7354553-4-1 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-7354553-5-8 (ebook)
www.hebauman.com
Content Warning
Thank you for picking up Under Darkened Skies. This is a fantasy novel that follows Astrea Sovna, a 24-year-old librarian and mage, as she navigates an increasingly dangerous city. The story includes themes and events that may not be suitable for some readers:
Fantasy and magical violence, including death
References to past parental death, war and imperialism, gambling, and drug use
Alcohol consumption
Panic attacks and anxiety
Stalking
If you need to put the book down at any time (including now), please do so and take care of yourself.
To those who have tried to make themselves small and play it safe
Contents
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
26. Chapter 26
27. Chapter 27
28. Chapter 28
29. Chapter 29
30. Chapter 30
31. Chapter 31
32. Chapter 32
33. Chapter 33
34. Chapter 34
35. Chapter 35
36. Chapter 36
37. Chapter 37
38. Chapter 38
39. Chapter 39
40. Chapter 40
41. Chapter 41
42. Chapter 42
43. Chapter 43
44. Chapter 44
Also by H.E. Bauman
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter 1
Astrea Sovna hated deviations from her routine. She looked up from where she was digging around in her satchel, a handful of coins jingling in her closed fist. “What do you mean you don’t have any pancakes?”
Carmella’s narrow auburn eyebrows lifted. “Sold out yesterday,” the café owner said. “I haven’t gotten a shipment of cinnamon in over two weeks.”
“No shipment?” Astrea echoed.
“Another blockade by the Delians. Sorry, Astrea. I can get you something else if you’d like.”
The pastry case to Astrea’s right was filled with everything from miniature lemon tarts to flaky chocolate-filled croissants to sweet raisin buns. None of them were as good as the delicately fried cinnamon pancakes she loved so much.
Astrea’s stomach rumbled. She sighed, then said, “Two raspberry turnovers, I guess.”
“And your usual coffee?”
“Yes, but make it two, actually.” Whenever Astrea went on these coffee runs for herself, she liked to bring something back for her boss.
“That’ll be four lire.”
Astrea handed the coins over to the café’s owner, then moved toward the opposite end of the counter so the next customer could order.
The White Lily smelled like it always did on Thursday mornings: the sharpness of espresso, the sweetness of sugar-laden pastries, and the never-ending wisteria blooming outside. It was Astrea’s favorite café in the Helosian capital of Kalama, nestled right in the heart of the Market District but away from the more crowded tourist traps that served watered-down versions of the coffee the city was famous for. It was even beautiful inside, a mix of creamy whites and lush brown accents. Wide windows spanned the front and rear walls of the shop, and the door at the back led to a private garden with a few extra tables for customers.
She’d been coming here since starting university, and even though she’d graduated two years prior, Astrea couldn’t help but stop in at least a couple of days a week. In fact, she loved The White Lily so much that she’d chosen it for her birthday lunch a couple of months before. Her best friends had said a twenty-fourth birthday required more flair, but Astrea liked celebrations better when they were quiet.
Astrea reached into the pocket of her linen skirt, fishing out a silver pocket watch on a delicate chain. She popped the lid open. If she left here within the next ten minutes, she could still get back to the Great Library before her boss left for her meeting.
One of Carmella’s employees, a young woman with dark curly hair styled in two poofy buns, smiled as she handed Astrea a crisp white bag. “The coffees will be ready in a minute.”
Astrea wasn’t sure who the employee was; Carmella always had a rotation of university students working for her. All that mattered was that she seemed to know her way around an espresso machine. The copper machine glittered in the late morning sun peeking through the windows, steam shooting out of a valve as the woman began making Astrea’s order.
“Did you see this?” a rough voice muttered.
Astrea glanced toward the line of customers. A pale man dressed in a fitted tan suit—the style Kalama’s businesspeople favored—tilted a newspaper toward his companion. Bright red pulsed around his friend twice.
People projected their emotions into the world differently, and sometimes it came across Astrea’s Lightbringer magic as color, sometimes as a taste or physical sensation. Sometimes she even experienced several of the indicators simultaneously. The stronger the emotional reaction, the stronger it was to her magic. Whatever the man read in that paper, it upset him.
His rage reached her a moment later, fiery heat burning across her skin. Some days, Astrea liked being a Lightbringer—a healer and an empath. After all, it was useful to get a real sense of what people were feeling. But she hated being in crowds, in settings where she couldn’t control what she experienced. It was so much easier to focus on the negative emotions than on whatever joy people around her were feeling. Negativity lingered longer, washing over her magic for twice as long as anything good ever did.
“We had no business getting into another war,” the man in the tan suit said. He scoffed as he folded up his newspaper. “Another five hundred Helosians dead. What a waste.”
“It’s just going to make taxes go up,” his companion said, running a hand over his dark, tightly coiled hair. “Do you think they’ll expand the draft? Both my sons are already enlisted, but my daughter’s about to come of age, and her magic is strong.”
Astrea pushed back against the frustration rolling off the two men. The Helosian Empire had been in some kind of war for as long as Astrea could remember. In the last year, Emperor Aelius Auris had gotten into a war with the Delians and Zaikudi over Corsyca, a small territory to the northwest. The emperor’s war machine was no small thing.
And though it wasn’t unusual to hear people talking about their concerns over various imperial policies, it was less common for Astrea to feel such a volatile reaction when they did. Though many people disagreed with the Corsycan war, many others supported whatever conflict the emperor got them into. She’d never understood why.
“Astrea?” The barista slid two white paper cups emblazoned with a lily design toward her. “Enjoy.”
“Thanks.”
After tucking her bag of pastries into her satchel, Astrea picked up the coffees and skirted past the line of customers. She held her breath as she passed the two men with the newspaper, but they’d lowered their voices, and it seemed their moment had passed. No more auras, no more negativity. Just the midmorning sunshine warming Astrea’s skin as she stepped outside.
The streetcar rumbled through the Scholar’s District, its bell tingling as a passenger pulled the cord to request a stop. Pastel-colored storefronts stretched down the wide, tree-lined streets. Most of the shops in this part of Kalama were bookshops, antique stores, and vendors offering supplies for artists and scientists alike. A few cafés and restaurants were sprinkled in, though they weren’t nearly as crowded as those downtown.
Astrea bit into one of her raspberry turnovers just as the streetcar started up again, the sticky sweetness clinging to her lips as she contemplated her to-do list for the day. There were books to be reshelved, which could take hours in the Great Library. It was the largest library in all of Kalama—and the entire empire, for that matter. With her boss out for the afternoon, Astrea would also need to keep an eye on the circulation desk. Hopefully Felix, Serra, or Lena would be working too, but there were no guarantees of that these days.
They passed a hotel on her right, the driver following the curve in the road. They were almost to
Astrea tugged the red cord above her window. The bell tingled again, and when the driver stopped, Astrea hopped off the rear exit. After a short walk, she was climbing the wide, shallow stairs leading to the library.
Up and up she went, sweat beading at her brow and sun warming her back. There were exactly seventy-four steps; she’d counted after her first week at the job, and they were the only thing she didn’t particularly love about working at the Great Library. But as soon as she reached the top, a breeze wafted through the covered colonnade.
One of the wide glass doors opened ahead of her, and Astrea stepped to the side, eyes trained on the ground as someone passed. Professors, students, and government officials were always going in and out of the library, but she didn’t want to look too closely at anyone. If news of the war was on the front page today, what else might she encounter? People’s emotions would be running wild with news of that many casualties.
Five hundred dead, she thought. It was terrible. It always was when such news came in from the front, and it seemed like those stories came in almost daily now.
The lobby was, thankfully, empty when Astrea walked inside. Empty and blissfully cool compared to the early summer heat.
The library’s interior was all Kalama with its beautiful stone floors, rich colors, and elaborate architecture. Several sitting areas broke up the space near the front of the lobby, a combination of settees, overstuffed armchairs, and sturdy wood coffee and side tables.
Astrea headed toward the rear of the building. The lobby opened all the way to the ceiling five stories above, where sunlight filtered in through several large skylights. A staircase loomed at the far end of the lobby, and to its left were the elevators.
She passed under the stairs. This part of the first floor always felt claustrophobic to her; the lights were dim, and the bookshelves made narrow rows that she hated going down. Beyond that were a few private meeting rooms as well as the staff offices.
Staff offices. Astrea almost rolled her eyes at the thought. Being the library’s director, Raela was the only one who got a real office. The two senior librarians they’d had on staff had been let go a few months prior due to budget cuts, and their offices had been converted to storage. Astrea and the three library pages all shared a small workroom, which they really just used as a drop space for their bags and coats.
Astrea stopped at the end of the narrow hallway and knocked on the door to Raela’s office.
“Come in!” Raela called, and Astrea pushed the door open.
Raela Zornovski was a middle-aged woman, the touch of gray in her black hair and the fine lines around her eyes the only true signs of her age. She was slender and graceful, taller than most people in the capital, and had warm bronze skin covered in freckles that betrayed how much time she spent in the sun when she didn’t have to be at the library.
This may have been Raela’s private workspace, but it wasn’t spacious or beautiful like the rest of the library. It barely fit three bookshelves on the back wall and a desk. Of course, the parts of the library the visitors couldn’t see were lackluster. They could barely get the funds they needed to keep senior staff around—ironic considering the emperor loved to brag about their collection of books and artifacts. How he expected them to run an entire library with one director, a junior librarian, and three pages, Astrea still didn’t know. They were drowning in work.
“Oh, Astrea!” Raela exclaimed as she looked up from her desk. Though she’d lived in Kalama for most of her life, Raela had never lost the subtle lilt in her accent that hinted at her hometown in the northeast of the empire near the Tornamian border. “Good, you’re here. I just sent Felix home; he seems to have come down with something. He was just coughing all over the place! As soon as I saw him, I knew he couldn’t stay.”
“Are Serra or Lena here today?” Astrea set the second coffee cup on Raela’s desk and slid it toward her.
“Unfortunately, no.” Raela took a sip of coffee and nodded. “You’ll be alone until I get back. Will you be alright?”
Astrea wasn’t actually sure she’d be fine by herself, but what was she going to do, insist a sick man come back? Hopefully he’d be able to see a healer. Guilt settled in Astrea’s stomach, heavy but not impossible to push away. She had plenty of experience doing that. “I’ll be alright,” she said. “What do you need me to do while you’re gone?”
“Watch the front desk,” Raela said as she stood. She smoothed her short salt-and-pepper hair away from her face. “That’s priority. I’m expecting a delivery today.”
“New books?” Astrea asked.
Raela smiled. “Even better than that.”
“What could be better than books to a librarian?”
Her boss waved a dismissive hand as she laughed. “Just wait until you see it. A friend of mine—he’s an antiquities and art dealer—found something he was sure the government would be interested in. I convinced them to purchase it for the collection.”
Warm excitement danced its way from Raela to Astrea’s senses. It was the genuine kind of joy few adults in the city seemed to experience, the kind that made Astrea’s heart beat just a bit faster.
Astrea smiled. “Well, I’m certainly curious what they’d be willing to spend money on.”
“You and me both, if I’m being honest.” Her blue eyes met Astrea’s. “But don’t tell them I said that.”
Astrea could only think of one person to tell, but she had no reason to. Eliana already knew all about the staffing problem at the library and would surely be livid if she knew what the imperial bureaucrats were willing to spend money on instead.
“Do you want me to put it anywhere in particular?” Astrea asked. “Should I unpack it?”
“Have the delivery crew bring it to the basement, please. You can leave it in its box for now.” Raela reached for her leather bag, then stuffed a thick folder inside. “If I’m not back by the fifth bell this afternoon, close up without me.”
By the fifth bell? The library was usually open until the sixth bell, and they often stayed until the seventh or sometimes even ninth bells to make up for their staffing shortage. But who was Astrea to argue when Raela was the one in charge? An early night sounded great.
“Sure,” Astrea said. “Anything else?”
“What time is it?”
Astrea looked at the clock over her shoulder. “It’s—”
“Oh, skies damn it, I’m late!” Raela grabbed her bag and her coffee, then rushed past Astrea into the hallway. “Remember, delivery in the basement. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? Get home safely!”
Raela rushed down the dim hallway, her long skirts fluttering as she disappeared around the base of the stairs. Though she was often late and forgetful, Raela more than made up for it with her quick thinking and ability to keep patrons happy.
Sighing, Astrea looked down at the coffee she was still holding. “Well,” she murmured as she started toward the lobby, “I might as well enjoy this before it gets any colder.”
Checking books back into the library was one of Astrea’s least favorite tasks. It was one that usually fell to the library pages, but seeing as she was the only one around and stuck at the circulation desk, it was Astrea’s only option if she wanted to be productive.
The last few hours had ticked by slowly. Some of the library regulars had come in to return or pick up new books, and chatting with them helped ease some of Astrea’s boredom. But no one had come in for the last twenty minutes.
Sighing, Astrea reached for the stack of books to her left. The first one, a heavy thing with a faded blue cover, was about old Helosian architecture. The next was a novel. The rest were a mix of history and fiction, the most popular books for patrons to check out. She took her time, carefully pulling out the thick checkout cards and filling in the necessary information before she set the books aside.
